


Black Holes and Other Irresistible Pulls

by josie_loves_you_ish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Pidge is a good friend, Pining, Sad boi, Tagging as I go, Underage Drinking, Very fluffy, klance, trying for slow burn but im impatient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-12 21:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15348987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josie_loves_you_ish/pseuds/josie_loves_you_ish
Summary: heyy so this is my first ever fic. I'm probably trash, so if I am, don't hesitate to let me know. This is supposed to be set at the Garrison the year that Keith gets kicked out. They're 18 just go with it.





	1. Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> heyy so this is my first ever fic. I'm probably trash, so if I am, don't hesitate to let me know. This is supposed to be set at the Garrison the year that Keith gets kicked out. They're 18 just go with it.

“That was incredible piloting out there. Your improvement from even just 2 weeks ago is remarkable. You’ve come a long way. I’m proud of you Keith.”

“Thanks Shiro.” He almost smiled, and placed his simulator helmet on the table as Shiro took the seat across from him. Unfortunately, someone else was sitting next to him.

“Keith?” the tan boy from Cuba stretches his arms behind him before motioning his water bottle at the noirette and showed his mischievously white teeth in a sly smile. “The only thing that’s come a long way is the back of his mullet.”

He made the motion to grab at his companion’s long black locks before his hand was violently batted away.

“Says the guy who’s missing a patch on the side,” Keith’s eyes quickly locked onto the shaved patch of hair on the guy’s otherwise product-ladden and neatly-combed ‘do. Lance had done a good job trying to cover his imperfection up, but if you knew where to look, it was unmistakably bare. “If we’re going by hair length, then I’d say I’m light-years ahead of you, Lance.” 

The tan boy seethed as he grappled to cover up the bald spot. Instead of a quick retort, his usual defense, he smiled, a flicker crossing his eyes. The water from his bottle had barely finished soaking Keith’s head before the first punch landed square across Lance’s jaw.

Shiro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, almost hard enough to bruise. Not this again. It had only been a week since their last principal’s referral, and he would rather the two best fighter pilots at the Galaxy Garrison not be kicked out for lack of discipline. They were too important. 

Still, he kinda wanted to see how their hand-to-hand combat training had been progressing. With the commander of the base out on a two-week diplomatic mission, Shiro had been placed in charge of running things, and as much as he disliked students fighting, especially the black-haired boy he had basically raised, it was good to finally see some sort of action on the otherwise uneventful base. 

Yeah, he could let this go for a few more moments. 

“How about I shave off the front of your rat’s nest!? A little less business, more room for the party in the back!” Lance jeered, purple bruises pooling beneath his dark skin. He punched Keith hard in the stomach, sending him backwards for just a split tick.  
“Yeah you’d like that huh. Maybe you could use it to cover up that spot before Pidge receives frequencies through it,” he returned.

The two of them grappled for a few moments longer, Keith nearing victory with each unreturned punch, until Shiro finally stepped in, laughing. He grabbed each of them by their uniform collar and pulled the teenagers out of range of the other.

“I have half a mind to shave both of you bald,” he said, chuckling. 

Keith looked up, mortified at the thought of losing his beloved (and still dripping) black hair. Lance shared a similar sentiment in his pleading eyes.

“Go.” He released the boys from his death grip. “You’ll both need a shower after a long day of training. I won’t be reporting this to anyone, just because of how entertaining this was. I won’t let it slip again though,” his eyes intensified a bit and met Lance’s and then Keith’s, for a moment longer. “Meet back for dinner in 2 hours.”

“Yes, sir.” Keith always made sure to be respectful of Shiro. He was like the father he never had, and unlike the other teachers, never needed to use fear or intimidation to get his students to listen to him, least of all Keith.

With that, the two boys departed for their shared room.

Why did they always pair up people of the same position? Lance wondered, somewhat bitterly, the taste of iron spreading through his mouth from his split lip, and the cause of it walking 10 feet in front of him. His expression changed. He couldn’t help but also think thankfully about the fact that because of this, he was rooming with his crush of two years.

\- - - - -

Keith flopped on his bed, Lance followed suit on his own, but with more grace. Maybe he worried about hurting his face anymore than it was. Whatever.

His face smashed into the pillow, Keith was acutely aware of the pain on one of his slightly higher than average cheekbones. Dammit. His creamy white skin would bruise easily, although he usually never let anyone get a good shot in. He would have to walk around for the next week or two with a blatant reminder of the fact that he had let Lance of all people hit him in the face. His face throbbed. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had received a bruise.

He propped himself up on an elbow and watched as Lance McClain walked into the bathroom, already stripping off parts of his armored uniform, tenderly pulling a chestplate over his head. The darker boy left a trail of armor to the bathroom, and turned on the water without even closing the door. Typical. Keith sighed, pushing himself up to walk over to the uniform. He folded the fabric and laid it neatly on Lance’s otherwise disorganized bed. He hated a messy room, and knew from 3 years of rooming with him that Lance would not pick it up until tomorrow. Some part of him suspected that the boy in the bathroom left it on purpose as a way to kind of “win” the fight they just had. Lance was probably in the bathroom right now laughing at the idea of Keith picking up his dirty uniform. Asshole.

Keith took off his uniform as well, content to lay and wait for the shower in his boxers. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke, Lance was standing over him with a green face mask smeared across his face and a blue robe pulled over his shoulders. 

“I have to take this mask off soon so unless you want to be showering while I’m washing it off, you might wanna go shower. You reek.”

“Geez what time is it?” Keith pulled out his communicator and saw that it was 6:53, “Shit! Outta my way!” He pushed through the robed boy and threw his boxers on the bed. He was in the shower before it had a chance to get warm.

“Nice ass, dipshit!” Lance yelled after him, laughing.

Instead of returning to his own bed, Lance sat down on Keith’s. He laid his head on the pillow, still wet from the water from his own bottle. Maybe he had been a little too confrontational. Nah, probably not. He spotted the noirette’s black gloves at the edge of the bed, and without thinking, slipped them through his own fingers and fastened the velcro. The fingers had been cut out, giving them an edgy look. He liked it, but would never do that to his own, fearing that people would see him as a style bogarter.  
He punched the air in a few quick jabs, “hah take that alien scum.” He flexed his fingers, enjoying the feeling of something of Keith’s on his hands. He reached up and cupped his face with the gloves still strapped on. He wondered how it would feel if the real owner of these gloves were to do that. How it would feel if . . . 

Lance wasn’t able to finish the thought, as the shower water turned off. He sprung off the bed and ripped the gloves away in one smooth motion then walked, whistling, over to the bathroom door. 

Keith pulled open the door and stood, dripping, in the doorway, towel wrapped loosely around his lower body. His black hair was slick against his head and was darker than a black hole, if that was possible. The long front licked around his jawline, pointing out how sharp it was, and pouring in front of his eyes. The long back, well that was just that. He stood there, his pale chest rising and falling rapidly, beads of water rolling down his workout-toned abs. He’d been in there for less than two minutes, he was sure, and he looked like he had just sprinted a mile. 

Lance stood there, gaping for half a tick, taking in the image before him, before Keith passed by him.

“All yours,” Keith exhaled over his shoulder as he reached for clean clothes. 

“Thanks, took long enough,” he raised an eyebrow and a sly grin accompanied it. 

“Just go wash your makeup off, princess."

Lance scoffed and walked into the bathroom. Keith’s gloves lay on the bed just as they had been before, but with a little spot of green facemask on the left hand palm.


	2. Not Every Race Has a Finish Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Klance bonding. Pidge and Hunk finally make an appearance!

The alarm clock went off all-together too early the next morning. Light had barely begun to seep softly into their shared room before the irritating beeps began their merciless crusade on Lance’s eardrums.

“Ughh, Keith for the love of God turn it off.” The brunette pulled the pillow over his head, trying his best to hold onto any remnants of the deep sleep he was just pulled from. If it was his choice, they would wake up to a gentle marimba or maybe some piano and birds chirping. That would be nice, he thought. Keith insisted instead on something that would without fail wake them up. 

But he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and despised the blaring alarm clock just as much as Lance right now. Keith groaned and, without lifting his head, reached out a lazily-aimed arm to turn it off, but only succeeded in knocking it off his nightstand.

“Shit.”

The alarm clock continued its tirade for several more minutes, neither boy with enough motivation to actually get out of bed and turn it off. Eventually, Keith sighed and slid his upper body off the mattress, reaching a long arm out to retrieve the noise maker. He replaced it on his nightstand and lay hanging out of the bed for a moment. 

“It can’t already be 6,” he muttered, face smashed against the carpet. 

“Maybe it’s not.” Lance turned over to face Keith’s bare back dangling off the bed, “Maybe . . . I go back to sleep until it is.”

“Mmm we can’t be lazy. Get up buttwipe.” Keith pushed himself up into a seated position and rubbed his tired eyes with two balled up fists. His hair was sticking in all directions, but in a way that seemed like he had almost planned it to look like that. Lance couldn’t help notice how the unruly locks kinda looked nice on him, or how the light illuminated them from behind, setting his black hair on fire. 

Dream-infested eyes looked around the room groggily before Keith managed to get up and start getting dressed. Lance reluctantly followed suit, mumbling something about beauty sleep. The shorter boy pulled his black, wavy hair into a loose high ponytail--something he often did when he anticipated intense training--and stuffed his gloves into his back pocket to put on later. 

“Ready?” he asked.  
Lance nodded. “Let’s go.”

\- - - - - - 

The two boys just short of ran to the outdoor training facility in order to make it on time. Everyone was already gathered around the large truck Shiro and the other instructors used to get around the base.

“Woah what happened to you guys?” a tall boy with a large belly asked, eyeing the bruises on their faces. His head tilted sideways, letting his near-black locks fall past the bandana he wore around his dark forehead. 

Keith and Lance simply pointed at the other.

“Figures,” the short girl next to him said, grinning. “Hunk, you owe me ten bucks.” The big guy groaned and brandished a ten dollar bill out of his pocket. She grabbed it happily and stuffed it into her own pocket, before adjusting her huge round glasses back up to their resting place. 

“What-what’s going on Pidge? Where you betting on who would win? Why wou--”

“Glad you chose the right fighter,” Lance cut Keith off with a pleased look on his face, although it was evident to everyone there that he had, in fact, been the losing party. 

“Oh no,” the small girl said, “Hunk thought you two could make it til the end of summer without getting into another fight.”

“You let me down, guys. That 10 dollars represents jerky and cheetos and other unimaginable plunders that will remain in the vending machine prison. All alone...” Hunk mock-complained, looking up at the sky with an expression that showed actual regret.

“Maybe you shouldn’t make bets about other people’s business,” Keith retorted with arms crossed--as usual--his throbbing cheek a reminder of the ‘business’ he spoke of. 

“Woah, who got your man-panties in a twist?” Pidge asked.

“Do I even need to answer that?”

“Hey! I can hear you. And if anything, you’re the one that got MY manties in a twist.” Lance whipped, puffing out his lower lip to accentuate the tear in it.

“...”

Pidge went on her tiptoes to whisper to the big brunette beside her, “Lance just admitted to wearing panties,” she snickered.

“I believe he called them, manties?” Hunk whispered back, the two of them snickering behind two concealing hands.

“And what exactly are you two laughing about??” Lance demanded.

“Probably your hair.”

Lance gasped, and grasped at his maimed hairdo and shot an icy glance towards the duo in front of them, kneeling over from another burst of laughter. He smoothed his hair over, but kept the cold gaze shifting between the two of them. 

Before he could respond, Sergeant Iverson blew his whistle and the cadets quickly arranged themselves in a roughly uniform square formation in front of him. 

“Cadets,” he began with a deep, gruff voice, “you were all going to be doing rescue mission exercises, but the rest of the instructors and I agree that we need to whip you worms into shape, preferably one with a backbone and actual muscles.”

“So today will be one long workout. You swine will begin with --”. He continued to list the near torture that the cadets were soon to be subjugated to, but Keith had stopped paying attention. He could take whatever the instructors threw at him. Physically, he was in the best shape of anyone there.

He grabbed his gloves out of the back pocket and pulled them onto his hands, pushing his long fingers through the cut-outs, when he noticed something. A dried greenish film smeared across one of the palms. He didn’t have to guess as to who the culprit was. Keith looked up, eyes narrowed at Lance, who was still focused on the droning Sergeant. He would chew him out later for this. 

“You’ll have a break from 11 to 2, and then report back no later than 2:15. Understood?” 

A unanimous yet reserved nod from the cadets signaled the beginning of their training session, and their entrance to hell. 

\- - - - - - - -

“You worms have done well today. I want everyone to take 2 cooldown laps around the base. When you’re done, you are free to go,” Iverson instructed before putting the clipboard into his truck and checking the time. 4:30. The tired cadets got up from their crashed position on the ground. Keith, the only one still standing, took off in a slow jog, leading the pack of exhausted students. .

Lance noticed, and, not to be outdone, took off in a dead sprint.

“This isn’t a race, idiot!” Keith called after as the tan boy bolted past him. 

“Then it doesn’t matter if you finish second!” Lance returned.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut at the idiocracy before him. He matched Lance’s speed nonetheless. Maybe it was a race. 

Lance’s long legs helped him take the early lead, but Keith had quick, strong strides, and better stamina than anyone at the base. If Lance didn’t have the headstart, Keith would’ve won for sure. But the way it was? No one could tell. The cadets watched at their own slow jogging pace as the duo cat and moused all the the way around the first lap and a half. 

“Heh,” Keith would breathe as he passed the brunette.  
“Sucka,” Lance would say as he passed. 

Keith had created a bit of a lead, and it looked like he was going to win, again. Maybe Lance could accept this. 

No. Not again. Lance gritted his teeth and willed his legs to move faster. His throat burned, and his calves begged for relief. Not yet. The gap began to close. He was flying. His throat stopped burning and his calves fell numb. He grimaced through the stars beginning to spot his vision. Keith continued at his own fast pace, ponytail bouncing casually in the wind created by his speed. By the time he noticed Lance, it was too late. The brunette whisked past him and back to their starting point, mere yards in front of him. Maybe he let Lance win. 

They both laid down, huffing and laughing. Sweat streamed down Lance’s face and pooled around his hairline. He turned to look at Keith with a look that was not one of arrogance, but one of someone searching for acceptance. Keith kept his face to the sky, letting the sweat drip through his black hair and across the rest of his body in general. Lance definitely took notice of how it glistened across his smoothly corded muscles, chest heaving. He especially noticed how the rare smile was split across the pony tailed boy’s face. 

He returned Lance’s gaze before smiling in resignation, “some cool down.”  
Maybe they were both idiots. 

\- - - - - - - 

The last sun of July reddened gradually as it began its slow descent to the horizon. It passed by wispy clouds, pulled long and thin by warm summer wind, and the stars that were already beginning their delicate display in the deepening blue of the rapidly approaching night sky. It was like the night was chasing the day away. The horizon welcomed the golden traveler in a flash of orange, red, purple, and finally blue. Night fell and had been casting its soothing shadows on the desert building for some time now.

“What are you listening to?” Lance directed towards the black-haired boy with white earbuds blasting some undistinguishable melody. He could barely see the other boy in the dark, the glow-in-the-dark stars and moon on the ceiling the only thing offering light in the room. Despite this, he could tell that Keith didn’t move..

“Hey!”

The melody kept playing, and Keith remained unmoved. Lance sighed, then smirked, lifting his pillow. 

“Keeeeeeeith!” he chucked the pillow across the room at the unsuspecting victim, who opened his eyes and jumped out of bed with fists up as soon as it made contact.

“The fuck?” Keith muttered as he pulled the earbuds out of his ears.

“. . . Hi.”

“Hi. Please explain why your pillow is now on my bed.”

“Well you weren’t answering me, so I figured that would get your attention.” Lance explained.

“Okay, well you have my attention now,” the annoyed noirette retorted, throwing the pillow back. 

“I uh, just wanted to know what song you were listening to.” Keith began to settle back on his bed, earbuds wrapped around his phone on the nightstand as the brunette continued, “I could hear it from all the way over here.”

“Ahh its called--” he reached for his phone to see what he was listening to last, “‘Save Your Heart’ by Mayday Parade.”

“Suits you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Lance smirked again, “I know your little studious facade is hiding an emo boy underneath.” 

“Do you?”

“Mhmm. Lets count out the checklist. Black hair swooped across face, multiple ear piercings.” (not noticeable because he barely wore earrings anymore) “gloomy attitude at all times, cut-out black gloves. Probably black eyeliner somewhere. I’d say emo”

The silence filled the dark room like smoke, smothering thoughts and breath, leaving Lance searching for word relief. Keith considered what he said next.

“I was meaning to ask you about those gloves actually.”

He held up his hands, still gloved, then turned them over to the spot where Lance’s signature face mask blemished the black fabric. 

“What were you doing with them yesterday?”

Oh shit.

There’s no way he saw him with them on, but how else would he know? Did Keith see him holding his face? That probably looked gay as hell. 

“Whaddya mean?”  
Play dumb. Maybe that’ll work. 

“Your stupid face mask is all over them.”

Oh SHIT.  
Think Lance, you’re smart.

“I, well I uh, they were on the floor so . . . I picked them up and put them on your bed. I guess I had some on my fingers. Sorry.”

“Oh.” Keith almost sounded disappointed. 

The silence was back, deeper this time. It was almost loud enough to hear, but this time, Lance broke it.

“Why did you let me win earlier today?”

“Huh?”

“You were way ahead of me with like 100 yards to the end. You’re so much faster than me. It just doesn’t make sense unless you slowed down.”

“So what if I did?”

“...”

Keith sighed, “Look, I know you put on a confident face all the time, but I’ve roomed with you for a long time now and I know that you don’t have a lot of real confidence. It seems forced. I wanted to boost that in front of some people,” he propped himself up to look over at Lance, who had been watching him the entire conversation, “You’re so much more capable than you or anyone else gives you credit for. And that holds true beyond some stupid race.”

Even in the dark, Keith’s steady grey-blue eyes were able to find the aquamarine orbs that adorned Lance’s face, wide open. Their eyes held constant for a moment, the silence not suffocating this time. It was inviting. 

“You mean that?”

Keith settled back down under his comforter, “Mhmm.”

Several minutes later, even after small snores began to whisper from Keith’s lips, Lance laid awake, thinking about what the snoring boy had said. Against his deepest hopes, he decided that Keith was just being a good friend. It’s not that this was rare. Even though they fought all the time, it was superficial, at least, to Lance it was. Keith was also a loyal kind of person, and beneath the aloof and uncaring persona he wears on his sleeve--skin tight, he might add--he cared a lot about his friends. Friends. Lance pursed his lips at this, wishing that a different word applied to him.

No sooner than he did this, did he hear a small murmur come from across the room. Keith was sleep talking, Lance supposed, as syllables flowed out, broken up occasionally by little snores. Incoherent words strung together like a tangled necklace Lance listened quietly until Keith unconsciously untangled it. 

“You’re amazing . . . every way. make you see it one day . . . ‘omise.”


	3. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge is her nerdy self. Hunk notices things. Lance is a longboard king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there guess what. still writing ;)  
> putting all of my headcannons into one mess of a story.

Lance’s mind continued to swim with thoughts from last night. Who was he talking about? It seemed like a continuation of their conversation almost, but Lance knew better than to look too far into it. Still, he couldn’t shake the warm feeling that had yet to leave him since Keith had said such encouraging and supportive words. It traveled through his spine and ebbed throughout his frame all the way down to his fingers and toes, opening his airways and making his heart beat faster at the thought of it. He hadn’t seen his family at all in the past several years, save for Christmas, and no one else at the Garrison ever acknowledged Lance as anything but a second-rate Keith. Pidge and Hunk were the exception, only for the reason that they avoided talking about it altogether. Friends don’t lie, but they also don’t put you down.

And it wasn’t just that Keith had been nice to him. It was beyond kind words and friendly smiles--he believed in Lance, which was something that the brunette needed. Keith knew it even before Lance, and he needed it like air. His roommate had a singular talent saying the right thing at the right time, and, despite his steeled exterior, probably rivaled Hunk for compassion. It was one of the reasons that Lance had developed feelings for the boy. 

The boy that had called him amazing. His mind was set on accepting that that was untrue--that Keith was dreaming about someone else, about pining over some beautiful girl maybe--but his body betrayed his conscious thoughts. Even if it was only meant in a platonic manner, he couldn’t help but feel fondly about the boy. And as Lance walked into class that morning, he was beaming. 

“. . . and then you reconfigure the software, add a few commands and, boom” Pidge held up a small electronic trinket to Hunk, who watched with keen interest as the piece rose in the air. It was pyramidal in shape, and had small regions of glowing blue light cutting through the pewter colored metal. Pidge alone could whip up something like that overnight. 

“I call her D2, an obvious homage.” The mousy brunette raised her fingers underneath the little drone and it retreated, almost fondly, into her hand. 

“Where did you get the parts to make that?” the big guy asked in utter awe at her resourcefulness.

“Oh a little here, a little there. How I made it is not the interesting part--it’s what it can do.” She noticed Lance walk in and spoke a command to the little device, “Greet Lance.” Pidge looked up at the entering boy as her little drone spoke up for her.

“Hey Lance, what is up” it monotoned. 

Lance grinned, “Whaddup Pidge 2.0.”

Hunk already looked impressed, but Pidge continued, “and that’s not all. D2, execute order 45.”

Lance looked a little scared as it flew over to him, fear plastering his face. What the fuck is order 45? He immediately thought of the last time Pidge had given him a home-made device to use, and it ended up shaving part of his head bald (not that she had intended the makeshift razor to go haywire). 

Instead of brandishing some hidden blade, it spoke up, “Fist bump, dude.”

The scared boy looked between Pidge and her creation, the girl encouraging him to humour her. Reassured, he brought up a shaky fist and pushed it in the direction of the drone. It met his fist halfway in a slightly scooped path, and then monotoned again “sweet bro,” before returning to his pleased master’s side. 

“Hey I like that thing!”

“You too broski.” D2 shot back at a smiling Lance. 

“That’s awesome Pidge!” Hunk’s eyes widened hopefully as he thought of something. “Does it cook?”

“Well it doesn’t have appendages so I’m gonna have to say no, but we can work on that, can’t we D2,” she cooed towards the robot like it was her child.

“Hey Keith.” Hunk greeted the guy walking in, who acknowledged him with a nod before sitting down. The four of them shared a square table in the back, as usual.

“Hello Keith” D2 hummed at the command of Pidge, which earned an amused eyebrow from the latest addition to their table.

“What is that?”

“Her name’s D2. I made her.” Pidge explained with a sly grin, expression a perfect mix of pride and matter-of-fact-ness. 

Before she could show off her fancy little creation again, the sounds of the teacher’s boots clapped outside the room. She hissed “HIDE” and the rover lost power. It fell into her lap and with deft quickness, she concealed it in her knapsack. Everytime she made something here, the instructors confiscated it without asking where she got it or what it did. It always riled Pidge up because there was no rule about making devices in their handbook. Callous authority always won over her vehement protests though, and goddammit she wasn’t gonna let them take D2.

“Good morning class.” The instructor walked to the wide desk at the front of the classroom, “Happy Friday everyone. I know for several of you that this is your only class today, so I’m going to make it quick so you can get started on enjoying your weekend. Open your textbooks. Page 324.”

The room filled with sounds of sliding paper as the cadets all found the specified page. Meanwhile, Mr. Montgomery walked to the whiteboard (more of a traditional teacher, preferring the markable wall to a projected or holographic lesson) and drew a big black circle on it, coloring inside its nearly symmetrical lines. 

“Quick game of pictionary. What is this?” 

“A black circle,” a smartass in the back answered.

“No, Lance--not what I was getting at. Any real guesses?”

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance, who shrugged and whispered, “I’m not wrong.” 

“A black hole?”

“Correct. A sphere of infinite density and intense gravity, these celestial bodies are immensely powerful. It is black because its gravitational pull is so strong that light itself cannot escape. Anything or anyone that is unfortunate enough to find itself past the event horizon,” he drew a red circle around the black hole, “would be in a pretty bad position. An event horizon is--” Montgomery trailed on. 

The four of them more or less paid attention, but Lance kept feeling the warm surge in his body each time he looked over at Keith, on the opposite side of the table. He had turned around to watch the professor, leaving Lance able to gaze at his ugly mullet as much as he wanted. He didn’t realize just how long he had been staring until Hunk passed him a note. Lance grabbed it, eyeing both Keith and Pidge on the other side of the table, neither of whom noticed. 

~~Montgomery’s eyes are up there.~~

He blinked guiltily at the deep toned boy who kept his head directed to the front, but side-eyed Lance with a cocked eyebrow. Lance considered what to write back while the teacher droned on.

“--they range from the size of a single atom to a million times bigger than our sun. These specific ones are called supermassive b--”

~~I’m just trying to pay attention. Idk what you’re talking about.~~  
Well if nothing else, Lance might be the king of playing dumb.

“--Sagittarius A is the closest black hole to us, located in the center of the Milky Way galaxy. It is a stellar black hole, which means---” 

Hunk slid the note back across the table, stealthily, so that Montgomery wouldn’t catch them. He was sure Lance would die of embarrassment if the teacher made them read it in front of the class.

~~Yeah you’re paying a lot of attention--to Keith…~~

Lance folded open the paper and froze. He looked up with an expression of horror at the big guy who side-eyed him, the eyebrow yet to fall back into place, a friendly smirk raising on his big lips. 

~~His fat mullet is blocking my view.~~

He slid the paper over, and when he received it back, there were no words written. Just a sloppily drawn cartoon of himself with hearts over his eyes. 

His cheeks reddened at the realization that Hunk knew, or at least suspected, about his affection for one Keith Kogane. Instinctively, he looked up at the boy in front of him, only to remember that Hunk is probably still watching, and blushed harder. 

~~What are you insinuating?~~

It hadn’t worked yet for him, but playing dumb was his only defense. He wouldn’t lie to his friend, but he never thought that he was obvious enough about his feelings for him to catch on. Again, when the paper came, there were no additional words. Next to the drawing of Lance, Hunk had drawn a specific black haired boy with an arrow connecting the two of them. For further clarification, he included their names above their respected cartoon look-alikes. 

Lance was sweating now, hopefully unnoticed by his interrogating friend. Nevertheless, he was determined to keep his cool. There must be a way out of this.

~~He wishes.~~

Hunk started writing something down, but stopped in his tracks. His eyes became almost circular with recognition, and he quickly erased it--hard. He even scribbled over his short response with black ink for good measure before crumpling it and placing the paper in his backpack. It has Hunk’s turn to sweat now. 

Lance was left beyond confused, but instead of over-analyzing the actions that had just played out before his shaky eyes, he gratefully accepted them. At least Hunk wasn’t questioning him anymore, or implying things that Lance had never spoken out loud, yet were spot on. He wasn’t sure he could deal with that information being out there just yet. Keith wasn’t gay, not bi. Precisely and geometrically straight. Rejection stared Lance in the face every morning when he woke up, and every night when he went to bed. There was no way to come out and say it. Perhaps his crush would go away as quickly as the bruises on his face. He had been hoping that for years now.

\- - - - - - - -

With the weekend before them, Lance and Pidge decided to take advantage of the relatively cool temperature (in the desert, they couldn’t hope for much lower than 80 at this time of year). Hunk was off to the kitchen as soon as class got out, and Keith was off to do whatever it is that Keith does with his free time. That was ok though--he liked spending time with Pidge. Besides, neither of the other two knew how to skate.

Pidge casually asked where they were going, adjusting the skateboard under her arm and blowing a thick pink bubble.

“There’s an open parking lot on the far side of the base. It's pretty nice. We can work on tricks over there and it’s big enough for me to practice dancing.” Longboard dancing, he meant. This endeavor was less about practice, and more about showing off how good he’s gotten on his board. Pidge hadn’t come with him in some time, always busy with her nerdy science experiments, so he often opted for going alone. 

Sometimes it was nice to go by himself, especially when he had thoughts on his mind. He felt distinctively carefree when gracefully gliding over the thin deck, pirouettes and all. Nothing bothered him when he sped across the pavement--it was his escape. His fears and anxieties could never keep up with the speed of his wheels. Lance never had to worry about being adequate or whether he would be compared to the rest of the cadets (although he was pretty sure Keith would fall flat on his ass if he ever stepped on a board. Heh.). And he was good. Damn good at longboarding. 

Lance was also still riding the beaming happiness from the morning, and wanted to share that positivity with his friend. 

“You weren’t wrong” Pidge spoke up, smiling, as they approached the smooth pavement, “this is about as good as you could ask for.”

In a flash, she took off in a dead sprint and leapt into the air, landing expertly on her skateboard and leaning hard right, grinning like a mad woman, “This is like riding on glass!!”

The small girl whooped and laughed as she landed a tall kickflip. Shit, maybe she had been practicing after all. 

They rode around for a bit, showing off to the other what they had been working on. Oh yeah, Pidge had been practicing. Everytime she left the spiraling board, Lance bit his lip, sure that she would wipe out hard when she tried to land. Every time, though, she landed without a sign of unbalance. After an hour or so, the two panting friends agreed that it was time for a water break.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this. I’ve missed it,” Lance held out the water bottle for the sweaty teen. 

“Yeah cuz it’s been hot as hell.” She squeezed a stream of icy water into her mouth, “Did the base really have to be built in a fucking desert of all places?” She handed it back.

“I kinda like it. It’s hot yeah, but it kinda reminds me of home.” He began reminiscing about his family and the hot days spent goofing off with his cousins; the cold lemonade his mom always made by scratch; her warm hugs she always gave him when she brought the drinks out. 

“I kinda miss it,” he admitted, a darkness clouding his pale blue eyes. He frowned, “Like hell. I miss them like hell,” he took a swig of the water and put the bottle in Pidge’s lap.

“I know what you mean.” The mousy girl stared ahead, fiddling with the mouthpiece of the bottle. “I haven’t seen Matt or my dad since they started training for the Kerberos mission. I’m surprised Shiro is around as much as he is.” Her expression was hard. She knew that the mission was important, but hated the council for choosing TWO of her family members to go. 

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence for a while, both empathizing with the other. Whereas other kids could go home during the breaks, Lance’s family couldn’t afford to fly him to and from Cuba more than once a year. And with the training Pidge’s family was going through, they might as well be in Cuba too. She leaned against him. As long as she had the family that she built here, she would be ok. Of course she missed her father and brother like nothing else, but she knew that that wasn’t the only place that a sense of belonging and love could be found. 

It had to be nearly 5, and the intense sun was waning. Somehow, lack of baking heat on his skin brought him out of his trance. Lance stood up and offered a hand, smiling down at his friend.

“You know what Lance,” she began, taking his outstretched hand, “me and Hunk may have been able to acquire certain . . . beverages . . . for tonight. You should chill with us.”

He contemplated for a second, draining the last of the water. She snatched it out of his hands and insisted, “it’s not this kind of beverage either. Come on, it’ll be fun! We already asked Keith, but he said he was busy, so we have an entire bottle with your name on it.” 

“What is it?”

“Vod-Kah,” she exaggerated. 

“Hell yeah I’ll be there for vodka.”

She smiled triumphantly and dropped her board to the ground. Instead of jumping on it, she braced her weight on it with both arms and looked back at Lance.

“Race ya. Loser has to take 3 extra shots.”

Damn right he’d race. His board could go so much faster than hers, but he suspected that she knew that. He placed a foot on the board and prepared to take off.

“No, no, no. On your belly,” she smiled devilishly, pointing him down, and then to a spot about 50 yards ahead of them. 

“To the last parking spot line.” He nodded in agreement. 

“On your mark! Get set! Go!”

They took off shakily at first, trying to get a feel for it, Pidge getting the hang of it early on. 

Shit, this was harder than he thought. They had to use their arms to push in a flailing motion, and it was a movement he was not used to. He was trailing behind Pidge, and realized that he had clearly overestimated his skills. He was about to resign to the punishment when she swerved and fell off the board. He passed by with a conceited chuckle and crossed the finish line. He rolled off the board and turned to the girl that was laying out in a fit of laughter. 

“I win! That’s three shots, loser!” he held a finger L up to his forehead and stuck his tongue out. 

She was still losing it, “Whatever!” she wiped a tear from her face, “my damn shoelace caught in the wheels! I woulda whooped your ass in a fair race!”

Lance, smirked, unsure if he would win in a fair trial, “3 shots ma’am.”

Pidge half-pouted and skated away, pulling an aggressively high number of difficult tricks to make up for the humiliation. She was back to her confident self, pulling trick after trick, going a million miles an hour. 

“Nice one Pidge! Wait til you see the ramp.” Lance suggested as Pidge slowed and stared, insanity lacing her eyes.

“Ramp?” those dangerous eyes intensified, complimenting the asymmetrical smile stretched across her face, beckoning him to explain. He pointed to a foldable loading ramp with a 10 foot incline at the west side of the parking lot. How had she missed it?

The expression on Pidge’s face became neutral as she raised a straightened hand to her forehead.

“Thank you for the intel. Excuse me, I have business to attend to.” And with that, she raced over to the ram, set it up, and climbed to the top. She spun around 180 degrees two separate times on the descent, making it look too easy. 

While she busied herself with the ramp, Lance took some graceful laps around the lot. Peaceful. He breathed the warm desert air in deep, feeling its heat fill him up, and feeling the wind blow his hair into a chaotic mess. It was soothing after all the excitement. All he could hear was the slapping of air against his ears, and the occasional “Fuck yeah!” from Pidge. He stepped off the board, still moving, flicking it up into his hand before jumping back onto it with bent knees. 

Lance started carving the smooth asphalt, stepping one foot over the other, front and backwards. The only thing on his mind was staying on the board. He spun on one foot and landed smoothly. He realized then that he had had no thoughts of an unrequited love. He jumped and faced the other direction on the board. No worries about whether Hunk would tell Keith. Lance pushed his weight onto the back end of the board, balancing as the tail scraped the ground. He balanced himself and noticed the newly vacant ramp. Keith didn’t even cross his mind. That was until he saw the noirette, running nearby with earbuds bouncing from behind his glossy ponytail. 

“Lance look out!!” 

He had no time to heed Pidge’s warning before he plowed into the brick wall next to the ramp he had planned to ride up. 

“Lance!” Pidge soared off her board and sprinted to the crumpled boy.

Stars filled his vision, an intense throbbing pain emanating from his forehead. He looked up as hands took his, but only saw blackness and fleeting stars. He squinted and then lost consciousness, falling into the strong arms before him.

Pidge stood back--someone had beaten her there.


End file.
